Admissions of Love
by Woody Allen Jesus
Summary: Another oneshot inverted scene. If you're sick of them, don't worry, this is the last one. The cavern scene in CoHF, between Isabelle and Simon, from her viewpoint. Again, oneshot, this is the finished article. Rated T. Please, read and review, I love feedback, good or bad.


When Isabelle woke, her first thought was that she was strangely, unusually warm- not feverish, exactly, but oppressed by heat. Her second thought, which explained, at least in part, the first, was that she was buried inside a vast nest of what looked like enough blankets to pack a refugee camp. She knew whoever had done it had meant it as a nice gesture, yet she couldn't quite shake the parallels between her and some kind of slowly evolving larvae.

Her eyes took in the room around her. The others were nowhere to be seen, though with the fire burning low, they could easily be simply out of sight. Somebody- Alec, most likely- had removed most of her poison-soaked gear, leaving her with a black thermal top that added to the temperature within her shell of blankets. And someone- she could guess from the silence who- lay beside her, one arm clasped loosely around her shoulders.

"Simon?" Isabelle said quietly.

He turned his head slowly to look at her, eyeing her with anxiety. "Are you all right?" he asked, concern clear in his voice. "Are you feverish?"

"Just warm." She was. Too warm, in fact. She slipped halfway out of the bundle of blankets that surrounded her. "Who wrapped me up like a mummy?" she asked.

"Alec." Simon watched her closely, worriedly. He was propped up on one elbow, the cuff of his shirt falling down, and with a jolt she realized she could see clearly the pale pink and red scars across his forearm where he had cut it open earlier. "I mean," he said, "maybe- you should stay in them."

"I'd rather not." She wanted to kiss him. In fact, she wanted a lot more than that. But she could tell from how carefully he was acting, and from their surroundings, that now was not the time, so she contented herself for the moment by pulling him closer to her.

"I can't warm you up," he said, a little lamely. "No body heat."

Isabelle rested her head against his shoulder. "I think we have established in so many ways that I am hot enough for the both of us."

Her words had the desired effect. She sensed that he relaxed slightly, hearing her making light of the situation, and he reached out to her, his hands sliding up her back. "Is there anyone else here?" she asked.

Simon shook his head, his cheek brushing momentarily, distractingly, against her mouth. "Jace and Clary snuck off, and Alec took first watch," he said. "We're alone." A moment later he seemed to realize what he had just implied, and hastily tried to backtrack. "I mean, not _alone _alone, like I wouldn't-"

He was too courteous. She rolled quickly sideways, scattering blankets around them. He gasped slightly, despite having no need for breath, as she landed on top of him. Gently she lowered herself down, laying her arm across his chest. Simon blinked up at her in surprise, and perhaps a little bit of relief. "I wouldn't maybe do _that_," he said. "Not that you should stop."

"You saved my life," Isabelle said, gazing down at him. He was looking at her in wonder, his eyes bright, hair falling into them.

"I didn't-" he began to say, then stopped speaking slowly as Isabelle dropped her eyelids. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards- first one, then the other. "I am a brave heroic rescuer?" he ventured.

"Mmm-hmm." Isabelle moved her arm, her body now pressed against his. Their faces were perhaps a millimetre apart.

"No Lord Montgomery stuff," he warned. "Anyone could walk in."

She let her hands wind their way into his hair. "What about regular kissing?"

She heard Simon start to say something that sounded like, "seems all right," though she was fairly certain his lips were still moving when she kissed him. He kissed her back unquestioningly as her fingers slid down his neck, lingering for a second over the silvery scar where he had been bitten. She felt his hands slip up underneath her shirt, across her shoulder blades, tracing the outlines of faded Marks. When they drew back, his eyes had darkened, and she saw them flicker to the pulse in her throat.

"You can bite me," she murmured.

"No." He looked appalled by the thought. He lowered himself back to ground. He was panting slightly- out of habit, of course. "No- you've lost too much blood. I can't." He took another deep breath. "You were asleep when we were talking about it, but we can't stay here. Clary put glamour runes on the entrances, but they won't hold that long, and we're running out of food. The atmosphere's making everyone sicker and weaker. And Sebastian will find us. We have to go to him- tomorrow- at the Gard." His fingers slid through her hair, deliberately gentle. "And that means you need all your strength."

There was one thing she had been waiting to ask, one thing she had been waiting to tell him, and looking at him now she sensed the time was right. "When we came through from the Faerie Court," Isabelle said, "into this world, what did you see?"

His face tensed, almost imperceptibly, and his eyes darted away. Gently he stroked her cheek. "Iz, we don't have to-"

"I saw Max," she said, before she could change her mind. "But I saw you, too. You were my boyfriend. We lived together and my whole family accepted you." She saw his eyes widen, and she saw happiness in them, and it convinced her to go further still. "I can tell myself I don't want you to be part of my life, but my heart knows differently. You weaselled your way into my life, Simon Lewis, and I don't know how or why or even when but it happened, and I kind of hate it but I can't change it, and here it is."

She saw him gasp a little, felt his chest quickly rise and fall against her own. "Isabelle-"

Isabelle pressed her body against his. "Now, tell me what you saw."

He looked reluctant. "I saw me being famous," Simon started slowly. "A rock star. I was rich, my family was together…"

_And we were together,_ Isabelle finished silently. _Please_.

"And I was with Clary," he said. "She was my girlfriend."

She felt a sudden sharp pain in her chest, and her body tensed as she took in what he had said, what he had told her. She started to rise, to escape, to get away and to be alone with her thoughts- and what thoughts they were- but Simon caught at her wrists, his eyes pleading with her. "Isabelle, listen. _Listen._"

His tone of voice was enough to make her pause momentarily. "She was my girlfriend," he said, passing over the word _girlfriend _as if afraid to say it again, "and then when she came to tell me she loved me, I said 'I love you, too- Isabelle."

Isabelle stared at him, trying to decide if this was deception, if it was damage control, but the desperation in his face was real, the wish for her to understand.

"_Isabelle_," he repeated. "It snapped me out of the vision, when I said your name. Because I knew the vision was wrong. It wasn't what I really wanted."

She wanted to believe him, wanted to trust him. She cast her mind back to her own vision, the tiled kitchen and her friends and family gathered there. And Max, saying, "_I've always been nine_," and her horror upon waking. A blip in the vision. A mistake. But if Simon was to be believed, what he had truly been hoping for, what he had wanted to say, was…

"Why do you tell me you love me only when you're drunk or dreaming?" she said, her voice, despite her best efforts, shaking slightly.

"I have awful timing," he said. "But it doesn't mean I don't mean it. There are things we want, down under what we know, under even what we feel. There are things our souls want, and mine wants you."

Isabelle realized she was holding her breath; she exhaled without really noticing, looking down at Simon, his eyes searching her, waiting for a response.

"Say it," she said. "Say it sober."

"I love you," he said. "I don't want you to say it back unless you mean it, but I love you."

Isabelle felt something stirring inside her, a sensation that wiped her thoughts blank, leaving only this feeling behind, only what felt natural, and wonderful, and beautiful. She took his hands in hers, locking eyes with him, and found herself saying what felt natural, and wonderful, and beautiful, and so much more, all at the same time. "I mean it."

She leaned down towards him, and Simon propped himself up, and their lips met softly, sweetly, filling out the silence, until she moved slowly back, and Simon spoke again. "So, have we DTRed now?"

Isabelle shrugged her shoulders. "I have no idea what that means."

She thought she saw him smile a little at that, though she had no idea why. "Are we officially boyfriend and girlfriend?" he continued. "Is there a Shadowhunter ritual? Should I change my Facebook status from 'it's complicated' to 'in a relationship'?"

She sniffed a little. What on earth was he talking about? Isabelle hated not knowing things, though for this she could make an exception. "You have a book that's also a face?"

He started to laugh then, and as they leaned in towards each other, she thought she could still feel the vibrations in his lips. Simon drew her down on top of him, arms sliding around her, holding her close, and she wound her body into his, blankets knotted around them. Their lips pressed together without restraint, and they whispered between kisses that they loved each other, that they needed each other, promises that they would never let each other go. She felt his hands stroking gently against her back, and she let her eyes close, and right now, it was easy to forget that on the other side of her eyelids, a whole universe existed, easy to imagine that outside of what she could feel and hear and taste, there was nothing, for that was how it felt, when she kissed him, as if he was the only thing in all the world that existed, and that if they ever parted, they would simply drift away, into the darkness, and they would never know anything but darkness again.

"WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING?" she heard from behind her. So there was a world outside after all. There was the sound of shattering glass, and she and Simon sat up to see Alec glowering at the two of them, a heap of dark green glass around his feet. "WHY CAN'T YOU GO SOMEWHERE ELSE TO DO THESE HORRIBLE THINGS? MY EYES."

He crossed the room, making a point of staring at the opposite wall rather than at the two of them.

"It's a demon realm, Alec," Isabelle pointed out. She straightened her thermal top slightly. "There's nowhere for us _to _go."

She heard Simon start to speak, though he quickly quieted down. Either he had decided it was unimportant or- more likely- he didn't want to say it in front of Alec. Her brother had flopped down in front of the fire and was watching them irately. "And where have Jace and Clary gone?" he asked.

"Ah," Simon started to say beside her. "Who can say…"

Alec threw his hands up in exasperation. "Straight people," he said angrily. "Why can't they control themselves?"

Simon shrugged. "It's a mystery." He lay slowly back down, and after a moment, Isabelle lay down beside him. Blankets were piled up under them; Simon tugged one out and tossed it over them. They slid into each other's arms, mutually grateful for the comfort they provided on this of all nights, and slowly, by the light of the dying fire, they again drifted off to sleep.


End file.
